


but you got me like a rocket

by lavenderseaslug



Category: Holby City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 17:38:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14857199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderseaslug/pseuds/lavenderseaslug
Summary: hey did you know that bernie is gonna put her face on serena's face on next week's holby???? this is a fic about that!





	but you got me like a rocket

Bernie is jittery the whole flight, her leg bouncing up and down in the aisle, earning her looks from her rowmates, from the flight attendant. She’s even handed a ginger ale, as if she’s got a weak stomach, is afraid of flying. 

“First time on a plane, dear?” The question startles her out of her reverie, from how she’s worrying the skin between her fingers and she looks at the kindly old man sitting next to her. 

“No, I was stationed in Afghanistan for years. Just...first time going home in a bit. Someone I’m excited to see.” She smiles, feels it beam out of her like a ray of sunshine, like a supernova exploding from her insides. 

“Ah, a lucky lad in jolly old England, is it?” he asks and Bernie feels the freezing sensation she gets when the subject of romantic partners comes up, when she’s being confronted with having to choose between honesty or comfort. 

“A lucky lady, actually,” she corrects, and the words come out easier than they ever have, because it’s Serena, because it’s love, because it’s real, because it’s the first time in her life she’s ever felt really and truly certain about what she feels. The old man smiles, nods, doesn’t make a fuss, and Bernie feels her heart loosen. She doesn’t always have to run from what she feels, from who she loves. She’s changed. Grown.

There’s no one waiting for her at the gate, which means Serena still doesn’t know, and Bernie sends up a silent prayer of thanks to Donna for keeping the secret, to Ric for helping organize it all. She throws her duffel in the back of a taxi and tells the driver to take her to the hospital. 

She changes in the locker room, knows she’s gotten in before Serena, knows what her schedule is for the day. Bernie runs a hand through her hair, looks at herself in the mirror, thinks she looks about as good as she’s going to, for having been on a plane all day. She looks better than she did coming home from Kiev, at least, and she’s got more than just a brown paper wrapped bottle of cheap Shiraz to her name. 

Ric brings her up to AAU, opens the door to the office, and Bernie settles against the window, casts about for something to keep her occupied. She’s got a text from Serena, complaining about traffic, about cold coffee spilled on her trousers, about how she’s running late because she had to change. She just texts back, “Buck up, soldier. You’ve got this day beat, I know it.” 

She’s been trying to be better at the whole long distance thing, about communication. They’d talked, she’d gotten Serena’s itemized list, supposed perhaps a picture of a full English wasn’t the proper response to a text about emotions and feelings but to Bernie, it meant that she missed Serena, that she was looking for bits of home even while she was miles and miles away. 

There’s a report on the corner of Serena’s desk and Bernie snatches at it, holds it in front of her face, the words blurry, she doesn’t even know what she’s reading, but she can hear Serena’s voice, complaining about something, can hear Donna trying to prevaricate, but then Serena barges in, moves right past her, nattering on. “...and I refuse to feel ashamed.”

It’s her moment, as good as she’ll get. “Quite right,” she says, the voice of the major, stern and commanding, and she pulls the paper down, sees the shock on Serena’s face, the shock that morphs into pure delight, a mirror to the feelings Bernie has inside. “But then, she’s always right.” Bernie can’t stop the way her face scrunches up in glee, can’t stop the happiness oozing out of every pore. She hasn’t seen Serena, not properly, in so long, wants to drink her in, wants to hold her, to touch her, to feel her. 

And Serena moves in, and there’s a moment, their faces so close, where they just catch each other’s gaze, hold it, just for a moment, and then their lips are touching and Bernie feels like a thirsty woman at an oasis in the desert, like she’s stumbled across the best buffet in the world and she hasn’t eaten in months. She can hear a startled sort of noise from Donna, then hears the door click shut. 

It’s familiar, honestly. They’ve been locked in this office before, pressed against the blinds as they kiss and kiss and kiss. Serena’s hands seem to love Bernie’s hair, they always did. She threads her fingers in the blonde strands and Bernie feels anchored, desired. She opens her mouth, lets Serena’s tongue in, can’t get enough of the taste. 

Bernie thought she might’ve forgotten what Serena tasted like, but she hasn’t. It had only faded, like a painting left in the sun, and the force of this kiss, the want behind it all, is making it all vibrant once more and Bernie can’t think how she’s gone this long without it, thinks she never wants to go this long without it again. 

She pulls Serena’s scarf off, throws it to the floor, slides her hand against the smooth skin of her neck, her collarbone, that beautiful vista now visible, tangible. Bernie’s seen wonderful sights in her lifetime, but she thinks there’s nothing quite like the glowing, shining beauty of Serena Campbell with well-kissed lips and smiling eyes. 

Her scarf vanishes too, and Serena latches her mouth onto Bernie’s neck, apparently uncaring that she’s at work, that the blinds haven’t been closed, that there’s nothing stopping the entirety of AAU from watching them. Bernie pulls herself together enough to tug at the pulls, the slats snapping shut, then grips Serena’s shoulders, her fingers finding the home they made all those months ago. 

She’s panting when she pulls away from Serena, can feel the lipstick smeared around her mouth, can feel Serena’s heaving chest, loathe to move too far away from her. “It’s good to see you,” she says, pressing her forehead to Serena’s. “It’s the best to see you.”

“How dare you pop up when I can’t just take you home and shag you properly!” Serena scolds, but she’s smiling, her eyes crinkling up at the corners, and she kisses Bernie’s cheek, right under her eye, pats at her hair, her hand lingering in it. Bernie’s glad she hasn’t cut it or changed it or done anything to it, knows how much Serena likes it. “Your lion’s mane,” she’d said, when Bernie told her she was headed to Africa. “Lioness’s mane,” she’d amended, and then Jason’d called from the other room that lionesses didn’t have manes. 

“It’ll give you something to...anticipate,” Bernie says, drawing out the word, her breath hitting Serena’s cheek, rebounding back. 

It does turn out to be a bit of a mistake, appearing so early in the day, but flights from Nairobi to England take a bit of coordinating, take a bit of doing, and better to be here than to be waiting in the Amsterdam airport for ten hours. Bernie naps for a bit in one of the on-call rooms, texts Serena to say that she’s found a bed with a winking emoji and all she gets back is a terse “shush” but it’s followed closely by a heart, and Bernie knows Serena isn’t really mad. 

When it’s time for them to leave, finally time, Bernie reaches for Serena’s hand and Serena doesn’t pull away. Their fingers intertwine and they leave the hospital like that, shoulders bumping, so close and so happy to be near each other. 

Bernie knows the drive to Serena’s house from Holby, knows it by heart, every tree, every house, everything a countdown to the moment when they’ll be alone together finally. She slides her hand underneath Serena’s thigh, rubs her thumb against the fabric of her trousers, and Serena pulls her eyes from the road to smile at Bernie, one of those heart-stoppingly beautiful smiles, and Bernie feels like she might just burst. 

“My duffel can stay in the boot,” Bernie says when Serena pulls into the driveway, parks the car, doesn’t want anything to stall the moment when they can hold each other, when she can unbutton Serena’s blouse, slide her hand into Serena’s pants, push her up against the wall. 

They have so much to talk about, to think about, to plan, but Bernie thinks that can wait, knows they’ll figure everything out, that it’ll all come out right in the end. She’s never felt more sure about a happy ending in her life, not even when she read Cinderella for the first time as a child. 

Serena fumbles with her house keys, and Bernie can practically feel the want radiating from her. She reaches around, steadies Serena’s hand, helps her slide the key into the lock, feels Serena relax slightly against her. She presses her mouth against the pulse point of Serena’s neck as the door opens, licks her way along the vein up to Serena’s chin. 

They stumble inside the house together, Bernie pressed against Serena’s back, arms around her, mouthing a trail against any bare skin she can reach. “I missed this,” she says into Serena’s jaw. “I missed you,” she says against Serena’s earlobe. “I love you,” she says to Serena’s hair.

Serena’s eyes flutter closed and she lets Bernie back them against the wall, her shoulders slumping slightly, succumbing to the want, the desire, to letting Bernie lead this encounter, arches her neck to give Bernie more space to work with, and she takes full advantage, loves the taste of Serena’s skin.

Bernie does want Serena up against the wall, hot and sweaty and acrobatic and everything she’s been thinking about with her hand inside her scrubs, all the way in Kenya, but right now, in this moment, she wants to see Serena’s face above her, smell Serena’s scent all around her, pressed against the pillows of her bed, the duvet puffing around them. So she leads Serena upstairs, sits on the edge of the bed, pulls Serena in between her legs and begins to undo the buttons in front of her, sliding the blouse off Serena’s shoulders, helping the vest up and over her head, working her trousers down her legs. 

“I would’ve worn something special if I’d known you’d be coming,” Serena says, a little huffily, defensively, her white cotton knickers already a little damp, visible to Bernie’s eyes. 

“I think I’ll be coming even without you in a lacy bra,” Bernie says with a smile, eyebrow arched, and laughs as Serena swats at her, pushing her back against the bed, falling with her, and Bernie catches her wrists, holds her close, tilts her chin up to kiss Serena’s lips. 

They roll slightly, back and forth, and Bernie revels in the feeling of Serena against her, on top of her, warm, smooth skin, those curves that make a beautiful pathway for her hands. Serena pulls at the neck of Bernie’s sweater, pulls it down, noses aside the collar of the shirt underneath. “You’re wearing far too much, dearest,” she whispers, and Bernie obliges by dislodging Serena for a moment, crossing her arms and pulling off her shirts in one go, just her plain black sports bra underneath. 

Serena pushes up the bra too, bares Bernie’s breasts, latches onto them immediately, her mouth hot, wet, her teeth sharp and lovely, and Bernie’s head falls back from the pleasure of it all. She fumbles at the button of her jeans, pushes them down just enough, then returns her attentions to Serena, cups her through her knickers, can _smell_ her musk, the scent of her want. 

Her arms come up and around Serena’s back, holding her close, lifting them up so they’re almost sitting, and Bernie mouths against Serena’s stomach, the soft fleshy bits Serena seems to hate a bit, the parts Bernie finds she loves the most. She can feel the slight quaking, like Serena’s nervous, sensitive, ticklish, and resists the urge to blow a raspberry against her navel. 

Serena drapes herself against Bernie, her cheek pressed against her scalp, her nails trailing gently up and down Bernie’s bare back, a tantalizing rhythm. They stay in this embrace for a long moment, Bernie thinks she could happily stay like this forever, have Serena for sustenance and love and everything in between, that she wants for nothing else, nothing but this, and the woman in front of her. 

Serena moves then, though, and pushes Bernie back down against the bed, her hands pressed down on either side of Bernie’s head, and she lowers herself to kiss Bernie, long and deep, their tongues tangling, their breaths mixing, their breasts pressed together. 

Bernie slips a hand down Serena’s pants, trails a finger in the wet heat, feels and hears the mewl that escapes from Serena’s lips, and brings her finger up to her own mouth, licks it clean, sees Serena’s eyes go dark and wild. 

Serena’s hips buck slightly against Bernie’s, her legs straddling Bernie, and she knows when she’s being given orders, slides her hand right back down Serena’s body and between her legs, one finger, two, then three, right inside of Serena, making her body spasm slightly, her fingers curl into the sheets, a groan falling from her lips like raindrops from a rooftop. 

“I love you,” Serena says as Bernie thrusts, grunts punctuating her words. It’s been a while since they’ve done this, since they’ve spread their legs, their bodies, to each other. There’s phone sex and video chatting but it’s never the same, never enough, and Bernie thinks she’ll never want anything but Serena again. 

They go slow enough, slow enough that Bernie can watch the gently play of emotion, feeling, flit across Serena’s face. She loves taking her time, setting an easy pace, likes when there’s nothing for them to do but make love, no phones buzzing, no television noise in the background, just the quiet house and the two of them, warm bodies pressed together, the only sound the expletives that come out of Serena’s mouth. 

Sure enough, it isn’t long before a sibilant sort of “Fuck,” fills the air, the “eff” drawn out and slow, the hard “k” sound a punctuation and Serena collapses against Bernie, her hips still moving slowly with the rhythm they’ve found, unwilling to end the contact fully. 

Bernie hums her contentment as Serena rolls off her, stays close, nestles her head under Bernie’s chin, kisses her right at her collarbone. “What else is on the schedule for the evening?” she asks, suddenly worried Serena will have work to do, that she’s interrupted something important, something Serena hasn’t told her. 

“Give me five minutes and I’ll return the favor,” Serena says, her eyes still closed, her lips moving against Bernie’s skin. “Nothing on my rota but you.”

Bernie knows they’ll have to face the real world tomorrow, that there’s hard times ahead, it won’t all be smooth sailing. But she can feel Serena’s breaths even out, can see the pale skin of her back, the grey of her hair, the fluttering of her eyelashes, and knows Serena will be the port in any sea they sail in, that they’ll weather whatever comes, knows it as surely as she knows the love that’s in her heart. 

“Honored to be at the top of your list,” she says, feeling tired, the day of travel catching up with her. 

“You’re the only thing on my list, dearest,” Serena says, her words slurring a little and Bernie thinks she’s getting sleepy too, thinks neither of them are as young as they once were. Thinks perhaps she’s never been as happy to be older as she is in this moment. 

“Quite a short to-do list, then,” Bernie says, feels Serena’s chest wobble slightly as she lets out a low chuckle. 

“My dear Ms. Wolfe, there’s no shortage of things I want to do to you. I think you’ll find it’s rather a long agenda.” She moves slightly in Bernie’s embrace, closer, warmer, their legs tangling, her arm resting against Bernie’s stomach, her hands at the waistline of her pants, nails just scratching at the elastic, a mindless movement, but one that makes the pit of Bernie’s stomach stir a bit. 

“Good thing we’ve got all night,” she says, doesn’t put words to any worries she feels, just lets her eyes close, matches her breath to Serena’s. She feels the pull of sleep tugging at her, allows the heat of desire fade into the warmth of love, lets it cover her like a blanket and holds Serena close.


End file.
